Suicide Blonde
by BlackFalcon002
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate a rash of suicides at a hotel in Chicago. But they encounter a rather tough entity that brings back memories that both had hoped to leave behind a long time ago.
1. Chapter 1

The body swayed.

It swayed in the wind, the same wind that had pushed itself through the windows, parting the curtains to make room for itself. Once inside, it skipped about, throwing papers off desks and making things creak and groan like a poltergeist with a broken heart. But it handled the body with care, lightly kissing the dark hair and tan skin, the jacket and jeans. Even his eyes, opened partly, seemed to be softened by the breeze, green gaze fixated on the window.

Like a broken doll in the hands of a child, he swung, as the wind hurled around him.

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	2. Chapter 2

Sam Winchester jerked awake, cracking his head on the car's window as Metallica assaulted his ears. Simultaneously groping for the volume dial and rubbing his head, he glanced at his brother, who grinned back happily.

"Wakey, wakey, Sam, we're almost there!" Dean sang happily.

"Nearly _where_?" Sam groaned, looking out the window, blinking up at the high buildings.

"Chicago."

Sam looked at his brother, confused. "I thought we had a hunt in Cincinatti."

"This on sounds like more fun. Besides, I think someone else got that other hunt before we did. The deaths have stopped, and here," he tossed a newspaper at Sam. "the storage building burned down this morning. So I figured we'd pick up on this, see if there's anything weird."

"So, then, what's the story?"

"Four people have committed suicide in the same hotel in the last three months, and there have been more before that, from what I've heard. All of them died in different ways- on shot himself, OD'd, and one was hung."

"It's hanged."

"Whatever. Point is, they all offed themselves, in the same hotel, at about the same time."

"Probably the spirit of someone who killed them self."

"That's what I thought," Dean said, nodding. "They weren't in the same room, though. It was all over the hotel. Usually, these things concentrate on one area."

"Were there other people staying there at the same time?"

"Yeah. Even people staying in the rooms where people had preciously killed themselves. Which makes no sense."

"And the fact that they all killed themselves in different ways," Sam mused. "That's not the usual 'vengeful spirit' kind of thing to do."

"But they _did _all die by suicide. That could be something."

"True," Sam agreed, nodding slightly. "We might as well check it out, seeing as how we don't really have much else to do."

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	3. Chapter 3

Once they'd arrived, however, Sam heartily wished he could take back his words.

"Oh, you have to be kidding." He groaned, and Dean whooped, pounding the steering wheel in excitement like a little kid.

"All _right_!" he crowed. "_This_ is what I'm talking about!"

It was ritzy and gaudy enough to make even the most stuck up millionaire gag, and Sam wasn't even close to that.

"We'd better be able to burn this place down," the younger Winchester said with a pained grimace, and Dean gave him a look.

"What are you talking about? This is great!"

"Dean, it's disgusting."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad, Sammy, you'll get over it. Besides, it's only a couple of nights, how bad could it be?"

"They have a real stuffed snow leopard in the window."

Dean winked, surveying the building again with a look of rapture on his face. "See? That's classy."

"It's dyed pink."

Shrug. "Okay, so it might be a little weird, but come on. Haven't you ever wanted to see a real pink leopard? It's like a pink panther….only….a different species." Seeing Sam's expression, he added quickly, "But same general principal, right? They're both cats."

Without waiting for Sam (who was about to tell his idiot brother that a leopard and a panther were the same thing), he ducked through the revolving door, leaving Sam rolling his eyes and following reluctantly.

Inside, he found more stuff he'd have to force himself to ignore. (like the fact that the pink panther had on a diamond necklace) and Dean, who was adamantly refusing a queen bed despite the clerk saying that they had no problem with _anyone_ or _anything_. Sam had to bite back a snide comment about being out of a job if they _did_ have problems with certain people, instead saying, "_Two_ beds, please. I don't like my brother at all, much less like _that_."

Dean shot him an odd glance as the clerk jumped in surprise, apologizing much more than was necessary as she scrambled to make the arrangements, not so much giving them their key as throwing it at them. Sam vaguely wondered why she was freaking out so thoroughly, then realized that he was glaring at her. And, for some reason, he kept right on doing it.

Dean, on the other hand, hissed at him as they walked towards the pink-carpeted stairway. "Dude, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"The hell do you care?" Sam heard himself say, and Dean hesitated.

"Christo?" he asked tentatively; for a brief second, Sam felt the sudden overwhelming desire to hit his brother.

"I'm not possessed, Dean, I'm just pissed off."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped, a bit too vehemently. But Dean just shrugged, turning and ascending the stairs, leaving his little brother to follow behind once again.

With each step up, the anger dissipated, and by the top, at which the pink carpet stopped (thank God), he had begun to wonder if there really was something wrong with him.

He caught up with Dean right outside their door. "Dean…" he said slowly, "Look, I…I'm sorry about that, What I said, I mean, I don't know what…" He blinked. What was he trying to say? "I guess something just kinda came over me for a second there."

His brother regarded him for a second before turning back and unlocking the door, saying "Don't tell _me_ you're sorry. You should tell it to that hotel chick who thought we were gay. The way you were looking at her, I thought she was gonna shit her miniskirt."

Sam grinned, following Dean inside, where the expression faded.

"What the _hell_?" Dean stormed.

The room was crappy. The two beds were tiny, and Sam thought the floor would probably be _more_ comfortable. The whole thing smelled like piss, sex and sweat.

"Well…it's better than pink?" Sam said slowly, not really sure what else to say.

"No, it's not," Dean growled. "The walls are the color of puke, Dude, and by the texture, I think I know why." He turned to Sam. "Don't touch anything," he warned, a glower on his face as he surveyed the room. "You'll get AIDS or syphilis or crabs. Probably all three."

"Hey, _you're_ the one who wanted to stay here."

"Well, now that I know why those people offed themselves, we can go." Dean grumbled. "This place is totally _shit_."

"You're also the one who got the cheapest room."

"We cant afford the better ones."

Sam held his hands up defensively. "All right, all right, no need to shout." He set his stuff down carefully on the bed, hoping that it was his imagination that supplied that squishing noise and not the bed, but somehow, he doubted it. Pulling out his laptop, he sat down at the table.

"Go talk to people and see if anyone knows anything. I'm going to see if I can find anything prior to when the first of our three offed themselves, to see if they have any connection to what's going on now."

"Why are you always the one who gets to sit on his lazy butt and look things up while I have to run all over the place and-"

"Just shut up and _go_, Dean!" Sam snapped, shocking them both into silence that lasted for what felt like a very long time. Dinally, the younger hunter said gently, "I'm sorry…I don't-"

"Yeah. I'll see you in a bit," Dean said stiffly, walking out and shutting the door behind him with a nap. Sam was left with the quiet hum of the laptop and the overpowering stench of human body fluids, and he sighed. He was being modd-swingey, borderline bipolar today-

_-That's why nobody likes you-_

Sam's head jerked up, and he blinked in confusion, Where the hell had _that_ come from? He wasn't usually one for random self-pity, because it was pointless, but he'd never thought _that_ before.

"Weird," he muttered, pushing open the lid of the laptop hurriedly and getting on Google, trying to put everything out of his mind but their case.

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	4. Chapter 4

Dean was back two hours later, seemingly to have already forgotten Sam's little outburst as he sat down in the chair across from his brother.

"It's not the work of anything we hunt," Dean grumbled, obviously annoyed, and Sam looked up in surprise.

"What?"

"All three of those people had some funky story. Like the first one to go, Tim LeStarse? He had tried to commit suicide before. The second was in therapy, and the third had just been fired and blah blah blah. All of these nutjobs had reasons or a history of suicide. _And_, according to that clerk (her name's Stacey, by the way), this place is a magnet for the rich and famous. They probably wanted to get more coverage or something. Trust me on this one, though, this is not our kind of gig."

Sam chuckled dryly. "Funny, I was about to say that you were right the first time. This _is_ our kind of case." He turned the laptop around to face his brother. "Look: six more suicides before the last ones, in different rooms and in different ways. But still, that many people."

"Did any of them have history of this kinda stuff?"

"Only two of them, and another had a lifetime of drug abuse under his belt, so that may explain something. Nothing on the others. Oh, and one of the guys you said had a history of suicide? Well, that was ten years ago and since then he'd become a multi-millionaire with four houses and a wife about as rich as he was."

"So…there's no reason why he would do something like this?"

"No. Nothing that I can find." Sam turned his gaze on his brother. "I'm telling you, there's something weird going on here."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it."

Sam sighed, closing his computer with a snap. "So, what now?"

"We could try talking to families of the deceased, see if that turns up anything."

"Yeah, but that might be a problem," Sam said slowly, and Dean gave him another look. "This _is_ a hotel. The nearest relative is in Missouri."

Dean groaned, rubbing at the stubble on his chin as he stood up, beginning to pace systematically. "Could you find out how far these things go back? That could tell us something. At least some kind of time period to look for."

"What about you?" Sam opened the laptop again.

"I'm….going to…scope out the area." Dean said, carefully choosing his words and his brother rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Meaning you're going to pick up a hooker and find a donut shop."

A short pause, then, "Yeah, pretty much."

The click of the door announced the older Winchester's escape.

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	5. Chapter 5

Two hours later, and the most that Sam had found was an exceptionally intense headache. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he picked up his phone, dialing.

"Yeah?" Dean's asked, muffled slightly.

"Found anything?"

"Only the best cream-filled donuts in the world. You want-"

Sam hung up. Turning back to the computer screen, he began to run another search, only to find it was unresponsive. Frowning, he clicked a few things, but nothing happened.

"Dammit," he growled, "I'm going to kill you, Dean. All of your sites are crapping up my laptop."

Without warning, it shut down completely. But even as he stared in confusion, a small white dash flickered to life, blinking.

"What the-"

It began to move, leaving a trail of bold white letters behind.

**HELLO, SAM WINCHESTER.**

"Oh, shit…." He whispered quietly, and even as the words left his mouth, it was moving again.

**THAT WASN'T A NICE THING TO SAY. YOU COULD HURT MY FEELINGS.**

"Um…sorry." He said tentatively. "I was just a bit surprised when…my computer started typing on its own." He wasn't really sure what to say. His laptop had basically just called him a pottymouth.

**BUT IT'S NOT TYPING ON IT'S OWN. I'M TYPING.**

Well, that made it all better, didn't it.

"Who are you?"

**WHAT DO YOU THINK?**

"I don't know."

**I THINK YOU DO.**

What the hell was this thing talking (typing) about?

"You mean about the suicides?"

**I MEANT ONE IN PARTICULAR.**

"Whose?"

**YOURS, SAM.**

Sam stood, backing away from his computer and knocking his chair over in the process. "What are you talking about?"

**YOU ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT.**

"No, I don't!"

**YES, YOU DO. AND YOU KNOW YOU DO. REMEMBER JESS?**

"Leave here out of this."

**REMEMBER HOW YOU FELT WHEN YOU SAW HER BURNING ON THE CEILING? REMEMBER THAT HOLE IN YOUR HEART THAT NOTHING COULD FILL? REMEMBER-**

"Shut up!"

**-HOW ANGRY YOU WERE?**

"Leave me alone!"

**BECAUSE SHE SAVED YOU, DIDN'T SHE, SAM?**

The younger hunter couldn't say anything, feeling bile rise in his throat. He could only shake his head.

**OH, DON'T DENY IT. YOU ALMOST DID IT, TOO. SO CLOSE, SO VERY VERY CLOSE TO-**

"Sam!"

Dean's voice, along with his pounding on the door, made Sam jump, bangs falling over his eyes. With a tearful glance at the black and white screen, he hesitated.

**GO ON. YOU KNOW WHO IT IS**.

Sam hurried over to the door, opening it quickly. Dean, his mouth already open to make some derogatory comment involving his brother and women, stopped dead as he took a closer look.

"Holy shit, dude, what the hell happened?"

Dean pushed his way into the room, a bag in one hand and drinks (coffeecoffeecoffee) in the other. Sam let him go without protest, hardly daring to look at the computer.

"Dude! Were you looking at porn again?"

Sam looked over despite himself, and was forced to look away again. The screenshot currently filling the window of his laptop gave a new definition to the word 'graphic.'

"No, Dean, I wasn't." he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose again. "That would be _your_ porn sites trying to update you."

Dean peered closer. "Oh, yeah…"

"Stop subscribing on _my_ computer, Dean. I'm getting tired of this."

"Oh, come on, you know you love it."

"Shut up."

Dean grinned. :It's a good, though, isn't it-"

"No, it's _not_, Dean, will you just get rid of it?"

With a dramatic sigh, Dean flopped down on the chair, clicking a few buttons, and the image faded away. Sam sighed heavily. It was his normal computer screen again.

Dean gave him a disbelieving look. "You're _glad_ it's gone? Tch, pansy." He looked at Sam, who was drenched in sweat and still looking a bit shaken, and said quietly, "Seriously, Sammy. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing Dean. Really."

His brother snorted, but didn't pursue any further, for which Sam was very grateful. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to talk about it….because then he'd have to explain what it meant.

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	6. Chapter 6

The coffee that Dean had brought was far too low in caffeine and/or sugar, because there was Dean, twenty minutes later, sprawled out on the tiny bed with the blankets lying in a dilapidated heap on the floor. Sam wouldn't have been surprised at all if their neighbors bitched about the buzzsaw they were keeping in their room.

Taking a sip of the crap that Dean was passing him as coffee with a pained grimace, he kept typing with one hand. These endless searches with absolutely no results were beginning to get on his nerves, and he didn't want to be staring at this damn thing any longer.

That was when the screen went dark.

Before he could gasp, or even breathe, words began hurling themselves across the screen.

**I WOULDN'T WAKE YOUR BROTHER IF I WERE YOU, SAM. YOU MAY NOT WANT HIOM TO HEAR ANY OF THIS.**

Sam hesitated. "Any of what?"

**ANY OF WHAT WE'RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT.**

"What-"

**WE'RE BACK ON THE SUBJECT OF YOU, SAM. AND THIS TIME, I'M GOING TO FINISH WHAT I WAS TRYING TO SAY EARLIER, DISTRACTIONS OR NOT.**

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Sam hissed.

**YES, YOU DO. STOP TRYING TO DENY WHAT WE BOTH KNOW PERFECTLY WELL. IT WILL DO YOU ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD. I KNOWYOU TOO WELL, SAM, AND DENYING ANYTHING I SAY WILL ONLY SERVE TO IRRITATE ME. BELIEVE ME, YOU DON'T WANT THAT.**

"You seem to think you know me pretty well."

**I DO, SAM. I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. THINGS THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW YOURSELF.**

"Yeah? Like what?"

As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back. He was pretty sure that he did _not_ (oh, shit) want to know.

**LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU'RE HIDING FROM DEAN, EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED OR HOW YOU FELT AT COLLEGE. THINGS YOU COULDN'T EVEN ADMIT TO JESSICA, BUT NOW THAT SHE'S GONE YOU WISH THAT YOU HAD.**

"Shut up."

**BUT SAMMY, IT'S TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT.**

"Don't call me Sammy!" the younger hunter yelled, and the laptop flew through the air, propelled by his fury.

With a crash, it came down to land bulls-eye on Dean, who woke with a strangled cry, leaping out of bed and sending the computer tumbling to the ground. Roving around, Dean's eyes fell on his brother, who was once again sweat-ridden and breathing hard. Replacing the knife to its usual spot beneath his pillow, he eyed Sam as he picked up the laptop.

"Dude, if you react like that every time you see a naked tit-"

"I just had a…a weird dream." Sam said quickly, not wanting to answer the inevitable follow-up questions.

Dean looked up, concern in his eyes. "Like one of your-"

"No, just a regular nightmare. That's all."

"Uh-huh." No way was Dean buying that one- his little brother looked completely freaked out, and, for some reason…lost, like he didn't know what he was doing here. "Seriously, Sammy, are you-"

"I'm fine." Sam insisted, then, as an afterthought. "It's _Sam_."

"Yeah, whatever, bitch."

"Shut up, Jerk."

Dean walked over, handing Sam back his laptop. "Doesn't look like it suffered too much. It should still work." He eyed the distance between the table and the bed. "Considering that you _threw_ it…I'd say this little bastard is damn lucky." He plopped back down on the bed. "Me, on the other hand…"

"You're _fine_."

"Yeah, says you."

Sam sat back down, not wanting to touch the laptop any more than he had to and setting it down. Staring at the bright screen, he shivered, trying not to think about the thing going black again. He'd go crazy if it did.

"Find anything?"

Sam jumped at Dean's voice. His brother had propped himself up and was looking at him.

"Did you find anything?" Dean asked again, more insistent this time. "Jeez, you're spacey today."

"No. I didn't find anything that would tell us what's going on…" Sam said, carefully, not sure how he wanted to say (my computer's talking to me, it knows me and I don't know now and I don't know what to do but I don know what it's saying even though I wish I didn't) what was he _had_ found. "But I did some more digging, and found something that might connect them."

"What's that?"

Sam sighed. "Almost all of them have some kind of record pointing to suicide, whether they tried it or had the signs or whatever. But most of them had gotten over it."

"So then what do you think is going on?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, casting a nervous glance at his serenely humming computer. "I'm not really sure…. Maybe it's taking those old feelings and… making them recess to how they felt before, maybe amplifying those feelings, forcing them to act on it."

Dean's brow furrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm just hypothesizing, Dean."

The older Winchester sat back, staring at the ceiling. "Well, I guess it would make sense… but it doesn't help us explain why."

"Maybe they're lonely, and killing people makes them…I don't know, more accepted? Like saying that other people do it, so they're not weak for doing it."

"Nnn…" Dean grunted, beginning to fall back asleep.

"Or maybe loneliness was the thing that killed them, but now that they're dead, they're still alone, so they're getting people to join them… people that are _like_ them."

Dean just grunted again.

Sam gave him a dirty look, the said slowly, "Or maybe they actually had a useless older brother who was good for nothing but sleeping and eating and never did anything to help-"

His brother suddenly sat up straight, his eyes boring into Sam's.

"What?" Sam asked innocently, his gaze locking on Dean's, who regarded him coolly before saying, "Let's go get more food."

He leaped up, grabbing his coat, and, when Sam showed no signs of following, his brothers coat (which he happened to be wearing) dragging them both out of the room.

On the table, the laptop flickered once, twice, then died.

"Dean, what are you _doing_?" Sam growled, yanking his collar out of the older Winchester's grip. "You just ate, and we need to focus on the-"

"The hunt, yes, I know, but I'm hungry, Sammy." Dean whined as they made their way down the fuchsia stairs. "And I only had donuts."

"You had ten."

"Well, _you_ wouldn't eat them."

"They're disgusting!"

"You've never tried them."

"Look, could you at least wait until we know what we're looking for?"

Dean snorted, "Yeah, because that's been going great. How long have you been working on it, now? Because you have absolutely nothing to show for it."

A short pause followed his angry outburst, and Sam sighed again.

"All right, fine. Let's go."

Dean grinned, pushing open the doors of the crappy hotel. "Awesome. And this time, I'm going to force you to eat whether you want to or not. You _never _eat, Sam, and-"

His words were cut off as Sam grabbed him, hauling him out of the street as the bus blasted by, so close that the bottom of Dean's jacket was slapped aside, and air blew in their faces like a punch.

"What…" Dean spluttered, looking at the receding vehicle as it disappeared down the street. He cast about for words, finally settling on, "Well….shit."

Sam stared at his brother incredulously. "Yeah, _shit_. Watch where you're going, Dean. You'll be even more useless than you already are if you're plastered across the front of a bus."

"Yeah, yeah…." Dean grumbled, but he looked at Sam with something akin to gratitude in his grey-green eyes. Sam, not sure how he would have to respond if Dean actually decided to have a mushy moment and thank him, said dryly "So are we going or not?"

And just like that, it was back to good old 'Yeah, I( meant for you to save me so you could feel needed' Dean. "Of course we're going, you anorexic little freak."

"Dean, I'm taller than you. What's this 'little' crap?"

"Awww, you're still my baby bwudder, Sammy-"

"Get in the damn car."

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End file.
